Behind Blue Eyes
by Miaka Kennyuuki
Summary: Draco contemplates how his life has been lived, and the one reason he wishes to change. HD Slash. COMPLETE
1. BBE 1

Behind Blue Eyes by Miaka Kennyuuki  
  
(Song Fic) Slash - Draco/Harry PG-13  
  
Summary: Draco contemplates how his life has been lived, and the one reason he wishes to change.  
  
//No one knows what it's like, to be the bad man, to be the sad man, Behind blue eyes//  
  
"Behind Blue Eyes", Limp Bizkit  
  
*Draco's POV*  
  
I sat in the Great Hall during breakfast, thinking about the letter Father sent me yesterday. It had been much worst than the others. At least in the others he had called me his son. In this recent one, Father had begun it with 'Boy', as if I wasn't even worthy of my given name anymore.  
  
Maybe I wasn't. A Malfoy was someone who met every situation with grace and finesse. They never stumbled, were never used, never backed down, were never defeated. They were the epitome of intelligence and wit. Just so was why it was so hard to be one, even for my illustrious father.  
  
Lucius Malfoy had already broken several Malfoy rules, one of which was the most important. A Malfoy was never used. Father had broken this several times since Voldemort's reign began. He couldn't even sum up the courage to claim this wasn't true. Lucius was Voldemort's puppet, and I was his.  
  
Yes, I can admit to myself that my father uses me. I am simply the child he sent to Hogwarts to do his bidding. I have no kind of life here. I walk around a shadow of my true self, picking fights with Potter and stepping on people as my father did during his time at Hogwarts. I had earned the reputation of junior Death Eater. Shouldn't I be proud?  
  
I wasn't. My father wasn't. What kind of life would I have, but bloodshed and torture, as my father lived? Kissing Voldemort's robes, bowing and scraping as no Malfoy should? Being tortured for the slightest mistake, torturing in return? I did not have that in me. It would most likely be the end of me, but I had to refuse.  
  
Yesterday morning, my father's eagle owl flew down and dropped his letter in my lap. I opened it, after carefully setting aside my silverware like the polite, well-mannered Malfoy that I was. I still chewed a bit of egg, which maybe wasn't wise, but I took the chance. When I opened the letter, and read the contents, that bit of egg fell from my slack mouth and the entire table turned to stare in shock. Maybe I shouldn't have chanced the egg.  
  
Either way, my robe front was ruined, but I hardly noticed. Father had sent me a message, simply stating that in one week I would be initiated into the Death Eater fold and would be taken out of school indefinitely. This shocked me immensely. There wasn't a single Malfoy in history that hadn't finished school aside from the first, Malcolm Octavius Malfoi, and that was only because Malcolm was poor and unable to afford it. The very thought of keeping a Malfoy from school was proposterous.  
  
Another sign that Father was ruining the Malfoy name and all loyalties that went with it. He'd already broken the first rule, yet he dared desecrate the rule against schooling? It was unheard of to pull a Malfoy from school. Lucius Malfoy was out of hand. All this so that I could become a Death Eater. I think not.  
  
Also in the letter, Lucius informs me that he had learned of my initiation task before hand, simply through connections. He wanted me to cheat through my initiation! The task? Kill Severus Snape. Apparently Professor Snape, a Death Eater himself, had been found to be Dumbledore's lackey and spy, filtering information to the Headmaster about attacks and such. According to my father, if I killed Snape now, before I recieved my orders, I would be revered among the Death Eaters and given a high position, higher than the one my father's name would earn me by default.  
  
Every teenager's dream, eh? Wrong. I had no desire to become a Death Eater. But no matter, the school, the students, everyone had already decided for me. I saw it in their eyes everyday. 'Malfoy is already a Death Eater.' 'Just look at how he walks and talks.' 'Did you hear what he said to Harry yesterday? Definitely evil.' The entire school saw me as my father come back from past, and condemned me as such. Nothing I could say could change their minds. That's alright, though.  
  
It only matters what I think, right?  
  
***TBC*** 


	2. BBE 2

Behind Blue Eyes by Miaka Kennyuuki  
  
(Song Fic) Slash - Draco/Harry PG-13  
  
Summary: Draco contemplates how his life has been lived, and the one reason he wishes to change.  
  
//No one knows what it's like, to be hated, to be fated, to telling only lies//  
  
"Behind Blue Eyes," Limp Bizkit  
  
*Draco's POV*  
  
They were looking at me again, those stupid Gryffindors. I could see the sympathy in their eyes. The hate. The pity. They probably thought they knew how I feel, how it felt to be destined to a fate as bleak as this. Well, no one knows what it's like to be fated to only telling lies, only living through an elaborate facade. Did they have any idea how hard it is for one such as me to act against my will, my character, for all these years? I suspect that Potter is the only one who caught a glimpse of the real me.  
  
All those years ago, in Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions, when I met Potter for the first time, I treated him as an equal, and he treated me as a new friend. I know most think I was being a snobby git back then, but that was how I was at the time, a spoilt child on a regular visit for new robes, excited about his trip to Hogwarts. Yes I was snobby, and yes, I was condescending, but don't most children parrot their parents when they meet new people?  
  
I was trying to impress Potter, make him become my friend as so many others were. I didn't even know he was the Boy-Who-Lived at the time. All I saw was a scrawny, malnourished, strangely endearing boy in oversized clothing and a nervous smile. He intrigued me as no other could. And yet, as usual, because of my blasted father, I fucked it up. I insulted one of Potter's only friends, that half-Giant Gameskeeper Hagrid. That was strike one for me.  
  
Strike two was insulting that pauper, Weasley. How was I to know that the Weasel's mother had assisted Potter throught the Platform entrance? Truthfully, I rather liked Mrs.Weasley, but I'd never admit that to anyone I know, nor any of the Weasleys and their friends. I would have nothing to do with Weasley's if I could. They were the reason I was such a bitter, cynical person, not counting my father.  
  
Ronald Weasley, the bane of my existence, first caused me trouble when he turned Potter against me. Though I can admit I drove the stake in further when I denounced the Weasley family in front of Potter, it wouldn't have been half as bad if the Weasel hadn't filled Potter's head with horror stories about Malfoy's. The simpleton was merely repeating rumors about my father, but the Weasel just had to throw my full name into every equation.  
  
Once again Lucius Malfoy had struck, and I was dragged down with him. My reputation was either in tatters or always shadowed by his, and all my respect came from fear. A person would never guess that I am actually a loving, caring person who enjoys the little things in life like sunsets and walks around the lake simply to enjoy the autumn day. No one would guess that my favorite season is autumn, or that I had a strange craving for parsnips when it rained. They would never think that I liked coffee with a dab of chocolate to substitute milk, or that when it rained I would sneak out and dance in it, letting all the joy I wasn't allowed to show free from me for those precious moments.  
  
My entire existence was one big farce. No dancing in the rain for the Malfoy shown to the public. No laughing at the antics of those Weasley twins, who I rather liked. Nope, not for Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Ice Prince and blue-eyed Tormentor of All Things Good. No, I was evil incarnate, Death with a body, sinister souls corporealized. I was the poison in a condemned man's drink, the fungus that ate through the floorboards, the noose that dragged the life out of the innocent. Poetic, yes, flattering, no.  
  
I don't wish to be remembered as the boy who was so evil Lucifer bowed to him as he passed. I wanted everyone to know me as the boy who preferred apple juice over pumpkin juice, as strange as that seems. Or the boy who, when he was five, teased a Devil's Snare and became entangled, crying for his mummy in his childish way and having a tantrum. But I guess living a lie is as much a life as one such as I am allowed. I guess it is my fate, to always be someone I'm not.  
  
Maybe I should envy Potter, simply for his freedom.  
  
***TBC*** 


	3. BBE 3

Behind Blue Eyes by Miaka Kennyuuki  
  
(Song Fic) Slash - Draco/Harry PG-13  
  
Summary: Draco contemplates how his life has been lived, and the one reason he wishes to change.  
  
(But my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be. I have hours only lonely my love is vengence that's never free)  
  
"Behind Blue Eyes", Limp Bizkit  
  
*Draco's POV*  
  
History of Magic, the one time during school when I can be myself simply for the fact that I need not speak. In History Professor Binns does all the speaking, and everyone else is left to entertain themselves how they will. But you may not talk. One thing Binns can do well, is spot disruption in a classroom. No fighting for me.  
  
It was Double History of Magic. With Gryffindor of course. Dumbledore must have a death wish for his students. The old coot seemed to be in his own little world, where Gryffindors and Slytherins only had a small rivalry, and no one was hurt in the process. Didn't that old fool remember fifth year, when everything went out of hand and the rivalry almost caused bloodshed? Some members of both Houses would murder members of the other simply on principal, or grievances done to their families. I knew for a fact that Dean Thomas's sister Marisa, a first year, was harassed to the point of tears by some third year Slytherins, and Thomas would not hesitate to use a few Unforgivables.  
  
Back to the subject at hand, though. History. A time of relaxation for me. With the absence of words comes the clarity of self. It was, apparently, the same thoughts of many. I could see the Weasel in the back, drawing pictures, mostly caricatures of Snape. Though I hated that git's guts to the point of a sickness, the Weasel had serious talent. He even had his own comic that circled Hogwarts, named 'Diffendo', a sort of spin off of an advanced unlocking spell, meant to portray the split personalities of several Professors and students. I'd have to say I found the one about Professor Sprout quite funny. It was obvious the Weasel's future wasn't entirely in Quidditch.  
  
The mudblood, Granger, sat beside the Weasel, scribbling furiously. But it wasn't notes, oh no, she had her Verbatim Quill[1] for that. No, it was a song. There was a rumor going around that Granger wrote songs and turned them into spells when she had time. She was still as scholarly as first year, but now she had a side job. Their were also rumors that Thalia Firedancer, the newest singer on the Wizarding Broadcasting Network, was in truth either Granger herself with a quick magical make over, or singing Grangers songs. Seemed Granger was a bit more interesting than I'd figured her to be.  
  
To the front of Granger was my true interest, Harry Potter. The Boy-Who- Lived was a bit of an obsession of mine. Ever since that brief meeting in the robe shop, I analysed him to death, trying to figure out that special something about him that drew people. I wanted that special something. I envied it. And by the time I was fourteen, I wanted to make it my own.  
  
Potter sat there, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment like Granger. But he wasn't writing songs, or drawing pictures. He was actually taking notes, writing down, in shorthand, whatever Professor Binns uttered about the Witch Trials of the 1800s. Secretly, as I had discovered all on my own, Potter was a bit of a scholar.  
  
It happened like this. I was heading for the Great Hall for lunch, but I suddenly heard rain coming down outside, and veered off toward the Entrance Hall doors. Everyone was at lunch, and I didn't want to miss my chance to dance in the rain. On my way out, I spotted someone enter the deserted store room near the entrance to the dungeons. I went to investigate, and what should I see, but Potter, slipping through the door and settling on a persian rug he conjured. Gryffindor's Golden Boy pulled out a large textbook with gold lettering, and settled down to read. I performed a quick cat's eyes spell, and read the title. 'Advanced History of the Goblin Rebellion, And Many Boring Pages About The Goblin Who Led It', were embossed boldly.  
  
Why was Potter reading such a long, boring book? I had been made to read it when I was nine, so I wouldn't be behind in class, and it had taken me three years to absorb it all, and here I see Potter enjoying it like nothing I've ever seen. Not even Granger went at a book like that. It was at that moment that all my illusions of Potter crumbled, and the feelings began. Strange feelings I didn't understand, couldn't explain except to equate them to other emotions and times when such feelings paralleled, in my mind.  
  
What I now felt for Potter wasn't like the bitter taste of rejection I had harbored for so long. It was more like how I felt after a good, hot cup of cocoa, or a particularly exhilerating Quidditch match. It was the comfortable feeling of having a warm blanket on a cold winter night, or enjoying a cup of cold apple juice with my pancakes. It was the lightness my heart took when I completed a task perfectly, or the weightlessness I felt when I sang to the stars some nights. It was my love of dragons, my foundness of the unknown, my secret self that I hid from the world.  
  
I felt all this simply after watching Potter read an insanely large book. What did this all mean? I didn't know. But I planned to figure it out. Did I mention that Malfoys never failed?  
  
***TBC***  
  
[1] Verbatim Quill- It's like a Quick Quotes Quill, only the Quick Quotes writes shorthand, the Verbatim writes every word as said, exactly. 


	4. BBE 4

Behind Blue Eyes by Miaka Kennyuuki  
  
(Song Fic) Slash - Draco/Harry PG-13  
  
Summary: Draco contemplates how his life has been lived, and the one reason he wishes to change.  
  
//No one know what it's like, to feel these feelings, like I do, and I blame you.//  
  
"Behind Blue Eyes", Limp Bizkit  
  
*Draco's POV*  
  
Love. What was it, really? In Slytherin, we equated love to a disease, a sore on our hearts, a sickness that could ruin us forever. Once a Slytherin fell in love, it was over. I remember this one boy, Tomas O'Fonner, an Irish boy who fell in love with a Hufflepuff. For a week, the poor boy was all hearts and roses. Then one night he realised what had happened to him. It all hit him at once, his love for a Hufflepuff (a Hufflepuff, for Merlin's sake), and the fact that he'd gone Cupid for a week. We found him the next day in the prefect's bathroom, his wrists slit.  
  
And the worst part was, after he commited suicide, Tomas was considered a hero, if a bit tarnished. To us, he realised the problem, and solved it. No more Hufflepuff love, no more hearts and stars. Just blissful darkness, welcoming red flow of blood. To most Slytherins, Tomas should be forever remembered. He saved himself, and in the process, saved us. That very week any of us in a relationship broke it off so fast, the boyfriends and girlfriends we once had were disoriented for almost a month.  
  
That is why love makes absolutely no sense to me. Die for it? Live for it? Lie for it? Be truthful for it? Work for it? Pay for it? It was all just a load of oxymorons and contradictory situations. The way I see it, once in love, you lose, end of story. You lose your dignity, pride, good sense, and in extreme cases like Tomas, your life. It was over once you gave into that fat baby with the cute arrows.  
  
I suppose I should kill myself, then. Well, maybe just cut myself a bit. Forgive me, Salazar, for I have sinned, and sinned I have. I have allowed myself to fall into some semblance of love with Harry Potter himself. No, I don't have to die. I still have my dignity, the respect of my peers, and my pride. My good sense is shot to hell, but that is to be expected. How, you ask? Well, it was like this....  
  
Walking down the corridor during my free period, simply strolling along, minding my own business, I bumped into Potter. I was incensed, to say the least. Here was Potter, the antichrist to my christianity, knocking into me and causing me to drop my books.  
  
"Watch where you are going, Potter," I'd spat, annoyed. I gathered up my books and prepared to stalk off in anger, when Potter whispered one word. I heard it, but couldn't believe my ears. "What?" I demanded.  
  
"I said, I'm sorry," Potter said. I spun around and stared at him in shock, and that was when I was caught. I continued to stare at Potter, seeing things I'd never seen before. I've never noticed that Potter's hair fell so fetchingly into his eyes, much like that day in Madam Malkin's. And his eyes, when had they become such a vivid green? His skin, his lips, his hands, everything seemed new and different. I didn't understand at the time. What was different about Potter?  
  
"Malfoy!" Potter snapped, drawing me from my thoughts. I looked up sharply, still disoriented from my discovery.  
  
"Yes, what is it?" I snapped right back. I was annoyed. How dare he interrupt my scrutiny? At the time, it didn't register that people didn't have to stay still and take my staring without a fight. I wasn't a prince or anything. That Slytherin Ice Prince thing was ridiculous as well as embarassing.  
  
"Quit staring at me. I have someplace to be," Potter had snapped at me, before turning on his heel and walking off. I fumed. How dare he?  
  
"Nothing's keeping you, Scarhead!" I called after him. "Bloody Gryffindor," I muttered when he was gone. I was confused. What was I feeling? Why did I care? My thoughts spun out of control and collided with each other. I didn't know top from bottom anymore.  
  
Which left me as I am now, discombobulated, disoriented, and in love with one Harry Potter. His unruly hair that begged my fingers to run through them, those emerald eyes that dragged me in and drowned me when I was least expecting it. Those strong hands, calloused from Quidditch, that caused shivers when I imagined them on my soft skin. And those pouty lips, just pleading to be kissed, and nibbled, and devoured from inside and out. Just the thought made me tremble. Then there was the whole protection thing, this instinct in me that told me to keep Potter safe at all times. It was quite strange.  
  
Did such thoughts merit actions such as Tomas's? Must I slit my wrist just to destroy the thoughts and feelings that were Harry? Maybe so. But my dreams, my hopes, I'd like to hold onto those.  
  
I'll wait before I destroy these feelings. Who knows, maybe something good will come of it.  
  
***TBC*** 


	5. BBE 5

Behind Blue Eyes by Miaka Kennyuuki  
  
(Song Fic) Slash - Draco/Harry PG-13  
  
Summary: Draco contemplates how his life has been lived, and the one reason he wishes to change.  
  
//No one bites back as hard when they're angered, none of my pain will, can show through.//  
  
"Behind Blue Eyes", Limp Bizkit  
  
*Draco's POV*  
  
I confronted him about my feelings. Stupid, yes. Another Malfoy rule broken. Malfoy's are intelligent and witty. Guess I'm not a Malfoy, then. I actually approached Harry Potter during one of his 'read a big ass book' sessions. During these times he was sure to be alone. Guess he didn't want the mudblood or the Weasel to realise he was a tad bit smarter than they gave him credit for. I've seen them, treating him like he has the mental capacity of a field mouse. Bloody Gryffindors.  
  
Anyway, it was a Saturday, everyone was in Hogsmeade but a few students, including Potter and I. He was up in a tree near the lake, and I moved to sit beneath the tree. I'm sure Potter noticed me, but said nothing. After all, the grounds were free for all, and if I wanted to sit at the bottom of a tree while Potter sat in it, well, that was how it was.  
  
"I love you, you know," I said calmly and quietly. I heard a strangled gasp, then something extremely heavy beaned me on the head. I looked down and saw the large text that Potter had apparently been reading. Somewhat irrationally, I jumped up and started cursing at him. "You bloody idiot, what did you do that for?" I snapped, righteous anger plain on my face. And Potter snapped out of his shocked daze and glared down at me.  
  
"Idiot? Me? You're the one spouting declarations of love while people are up in trees!" Potter shouted at me, swinging down and landing in front of me.  
  
"I was merely stating a fact, Potter. No need to get so huffy about it," I said, smirking. Surprisingly, I felt exactly how I appeared at that moment, calm, collected, and distinctly amused. I wasn't like others usually were in such situations, all sweaty-palmed and cross-eyed. No, somehow I felt perfectly fine. I truly believed that my love for Harry Potter was merely a fact now, not something to agonize over all the time. I had come to grips with my feelings, and decided not to pull a Tomas, as we now called that incident.  
  
"A fact?!" Potter gasped, that strangled tone coming back. "I-I.."  
  
"No need to say anything, Potter. I just figured today was as good as any to tell you," I said, still strangely calm. "Good day." And I left the poor Boy-Who-Lived gaping like a fish and muttering to himself. I was satisfied with the effect of my words all the way to the Slytherin dorms, then it all hit me in one go. I had just told Harry Bloody Potter that I loved him!  
  
After a moment, I was ready to calm down. I mean, nothing was wrong, right? Nothing could possibly change? Maybe a few weird looks, maybe deep contemplation for a time, but aside from that, no--  
  
"I saw you and Potter, Draco."  
  
--thing, but that. Pansy Parkinson stood before me, dressed to the nines in the ugliest shade of purple I've ever seen, and a smug look on her face.  
  
"Come again?" I said, unsure I had heard correctly. Pansy had always liked me, to the point of obsession, almost. She could simply be having a halucination about me again.  
  
"I saw you and Potter, at the tree beside the lake. Heard you, too," she said, in her slimey way. She smiled that sickly smile I'd grown to hate, because it meant things were going her way. "I wonder what dear Mr. Lucius would think of this?" She made one of those horrible dying sounds she called giggles. "What do you think, Draco?"  
  
I resisted the temptation to choke her. Slytherins already had a bad rep because of the stunt Tomas pulled. Being caught with the body of Pansy would not go down well, and wouldn't end well for me either. Stupid bitch. Never did know her place. "I think, Parkinson, that you are way out of line," I snapped, fed up with her tiptoeing around the subject. "How much do I have to pay you? Well, tell me. I haven't got all day."  
  
At my angry yet dignified snarl, Pansy scowled. Maybe she realised she was talking to a Malfoy. "Your name means nothing to me, Draco, so drop the act and do as I say." Maybe not. "I don't want any money. Far from it. I want what Potter already has--"  
  
"More talent than you in most things? My, that's a tall order, even for you," I said in my usual condescending tones. Pansy scowled harder.  
  
"I'd watch it if I were you, Draco. I hold the cards now, and I plan to tell your father if you don't cooperate," Pansy snapped. I thought about that for a minute. Hm, give Pansy what she wants, avoid the whole family drama thing. Refuse, get tortured by my father and humiliated by my peers. What exactly did I have to do?  
  
"Tell me what you wish, then I'll weigh the possibilities," I said nonchalantly.  
  
"You don't have a choice!" Pansy screamed. "I want you to give me everything that you are, for a week."  
  
"You want my clothes, good looks and charm?" I asked, confused and amused.  
  
"No! I want you, Draco. Every inch of you, every centimeter. I want to own you, as Potter owns you. I want you to be mine," she panted, still exhuasted from her anger.  
  
I pretended to contemplate, but I already knew my answer. Really, who would want forced sex with Pansy. "I think I'll pass, old girl. Have the house elves bring me some tea, please," I said. I patted Pansy on the head. "That's a good girl." As I turned to enter my dorm room, I could hear Pansy seething.  
  
"I'll get you, Draco, and your little Potter, too! You'll both be ruined!" she cried. I sucked in a breath nervously. Pansy darted away, most likely to the owlry.  
  
This wasn't good. I was so dead, wasn't I?  
  
***TBC*** 


	6. BBE 6, special reviewers addition

Behind Blue Eyes by Miaka Kennyuuki  
  
(Song Fic) Slash - Draco/Harry PG-13  
  
Summary: Draco contemplates how his life has been lived, and the one reason he wishes to change.  
  
(But my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be. I have hours only lonely my love is vengence that's never free.)  
  
//No one knows what it's like, to be mistreated, to be defeated, Behind blue eyes.//  
  
"Behind Blue Eyes", Limp Bizkit  
  
*Draco's POV*  
  
Pansy had been completely serious, as was evidenced by the owl coming toward me at breakfast a week after the confrontation. This past week she'd tried everything, from groping me to begging me to give in to her demands. Normally, I'd fold. Self-preservation and all that. But weighing the possiblities of sleeping with Pansy to getting tortured by my father, I'm sure many can understand my decision to accept the torture.  
  
Finally, around 2:00pm yesterday afternoon, Pansy had reached her limit. It might have been the Bat Bogey hex I'd thrown at her that was the real deciding factor, but I couldn't be sure. Right that minute she'd run off to the Owlry, much like I'd thought she had that first night.  
  
And here I was, cowering delicately in my seat, looking absolutely gorgeous, I knew, awaiting the missive from my father. I snuck a glance toward Potter, once again struck by the vivid green of his eyes and the unruly order of his hair. Those emerald orbs contained concern..for me. I was overjoyed, ecstatic, glazing over with wonderment for a short while. Then my father's letter fell in my lap and the happiness was replaced with despair.  
  
With visible dread, I lifted the valum envelope and opened it. The thick parchment of the letter fell out and opened of its own accord. The letter whispered to me, one line. 'Malfoy's are never publicly humiliated.' That could only mean one thing. My father meant to humiliate me with a howler, and wanted me to move to my room with his missive. I said the appropriate code that granted me ten minutes before the letter was due to go off. Throwing a short glance Potter's way, I jumped up and hurried toward my dorm.  
  
Once in my room, I threw the parchment away from me. It exploded in a ball of flames and a tall form emerged. Lucius Malfoy, come to give me the punishment I deserved. Nifty way to get past the wards, hm?  
  
"Draco," Father whispered, his ice blue eyes narrowed. "What's this I hear about you loving Potter? Parkinson gave me a very detailed account." I snorted. Father was stating Pansy's name clearly in case I wished retribution for ratting me out. He most likely hoped I would exact revenge. It was the mark of a Malfoy to let no wrong done to you go unrighted. Or at least repaid.  
  
"Pansy has a small mental problem, Father. They have dubbed it Draconis Obsessionica, since it mainly centers around her obsession of me," I said clearly, trying to keep the fear inside until he started beating me. "Apparently Pansy heard more of her voices, and tried to blackmail me into giving her sexual favors."  
  
My Father growled at that. Though he was displeased with me, he was obviously much more incensed with Pansy. Another Malfoy rule was broken. A Malfoy is never propositioned, they do the propositioning. Pansy had definitely crossed a line this time. "So Parkinson propositioned you, eh?" my Father muttered. Finally, he turned back to me. "That is no excuse. I have several written accounts of the scene with Potter under the tree by the lake."  
  
"But how? There were only a few Huffle--oh," I said, realisation dawning. Father had members of each House under his control.  
  
"I have a few Hufflepuffs in my pocket," he said. "Bloody useful, that." Father grinned ferally. "That is beside the point, Draco. Are you ready to accept your punishment?" I sighed. Here goes nothing. I nodded. "Good. Prepare yourself! Crucio!"  
  
The Unforgivable Curse hit me hard, knocking me from my feet. I whimpered in pain, but tried to hold most of my responses back. Malfoy rule number ten, show no pain, ever. These rules were bloody annoying.  
  
It was around then that I blacked out.  
  
***TBC*** 


	7. BBE 7

Behind Blue Eyes by Miaka Kennyuuki  
  
(Song Fic) Slash - Draco/Harry PG-13  
  
Summary: Draco contemplates how his life has been lived, and the one reason he wishes to change.  
  
//And no one knows how to say that they're sorry, and don't worry, I'm not tellin' lies.//  
  
"Behind Blue Eyes", Limp Bizkit  
  
*Draco's POV*  
  
I woke up in the Infirmary, a headache the size of an Erumpent and pains in just about every part of my body. If I was a normal teenager, I might have groaned. But I was a Malfoy. We didn't show pain, remember? Right about now I want to find the Malfoy that made up the Family Rulebook and kick them in the gonads. Stupid fuck. Making up bloody rules to follow for every bloody situation....bloody git...  
  
"Are you awake, Malfoy?" said a very, very familiar voice.  
  
Hello! Jackpot! Potter was at my bedside. Had he been crying? Was he heart broken that I had been hurt? Was he about ready to declare his undying love?  
  
"Got yourself in a bit of a fight with the wrong end of a wand, eh? You deserved it," Potter said.  
  
Guess not. Well, one could dream, right? Life was shaped around dreams. Sometimes I imagined that our entire world was one big dream of one single man. Like that muggle game for Dreamcast, Time Stalkers. It was about this crazy old man, kind of like Dumbledore, who snatched people from their own worlds for his own amusement. It had a catchy tune, also. How did it go? Time, time is everything...  
  
"Malfoy!" Potter cried. "Get your head out of your arse and listen to me!"  
  
My blue eyes widened and I huffed. "You needn't be so rude, Potter. I was merely thinking. Now I know the concept is a bit lost on you..." I said, smirking when Potter's face turned red. Damn, he looked even more desirable angry.  
  
"Shove it, Malfoy. I only came to tell you that you deserved whatever you got," Potter snapped, then he looked down and blushed. "And that I was worried when you left after you got that letter."  
  
I grinned. Yes, grinned. I shined my pearly whites like there was no tomorrow. Harry Potter, the Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived, was worried about me. I wonder how the Weasel and Granger would take this.  
  
"Really, Potter? Worried about a Malfoy? Are you certain you didn't come for treatment for yourself?" I said, snidely but good naturedly. "I'm honoured, Potter, that at least during your mentally unstable moments I am thought of."  
  
"I am not mentally unstable, Malfoy! I simply wished to see how you were. Is that a crime these days?!" Potter demanded, turning that fetching angry red again.  
  
"But of course," I said, smirking. "Nothing strange is legal, and Potter, this is definitely strange. If I wasn't bedridden at the moment, I'd get up and knock some sense into you." Inwardly I laughed. Gryffindor's Golden Boy had come to see me, Draco Malfoy, and he was adorably embarassed about it. "Say what you came to say, Potter, then go away. I have some major healing to do."  
  
Potter scowled, but settled down in his chair more and took off his glasses. "What did your father do to you, Draco?" he asked seriously. Of course, I couldn't let this seriousness continue.  
  
"Draco is it? Since when have you called me Draco, Potter. Been having some interesting dreams?" I said, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively. Potter blushed, then growled low in his throat. I relented. What if Potter was a lion animagus and ripped me to streds for angering him? Didn't want that, did I? "What did my father do to me? Hm, after the first Cruciatus Curse, I sort of passed out." I scowled. "Normally I last longer, but I guess this week has been a bit more eventful than my heart could take."  
  
Potter gasped when I mentioned the curse, and blushed for some reason, when I said the word heart. We sat there for several minutes, not saying anything for several minutes. Then Potter leaned forward, his eyes greener than I'd ever seen them. Unfortunately, my mouth ran out on me before I could catch it, and I murmured that last thought out loud. Potter blushed, then looked up with determined emerald irises.  
  
"Malfoy...Draco, I have something to tell you," he said, that tacky Gryffindor courage reflecting in every word, as well as a healthy fear of what he was about to say. He definitely had my attention now. "Look, Draco, I'm sorry for all the things my friends and I did to you over the years--"  
  
"You're sorry? What in the bloody hell--" I began, confused. Why was Potter apologizing? This wasn't how the script went. It was supposed to be the standard,'Potter I'm sorry,' and 'Malfoy, I accept your apology, let's be friends' bit. What in the bloody hell was going on?  
  
"Don't interrupt," Potter snapped, glaring. I backed down. Though his glare is fetching also, it makes it no less deadly. "As I was saying, I apologize for that. I was worried about you when you got that letter and turned paler than usual..." At this I glared. My skin was very healthy, thank you very much. "...and I wanted to make sure you were alright," he said quickly.  
  
"Well, that's all well and good, Potter--Urp," I began. I never got to finish my question. I mean, who could talk when someone's lips were plastered to theirs? After about a minute, Potter pulled back with a nervous look in his eyes. He most likely didn't know how to gauge my reaction, even though I'd professed my love. I smirked. Sometimes it was good to be a Malfoy. Everyone believed you were volatile and dangerous.  
  
"Hand me that vial of blue liquid over there, Potter," I said quietly. Nervously, Potter handed me the healing potion. I downed it in one gulp, then grinned. Grabbing each side of his face, I pulled him close. "Ok, now lay it on me." Potter stared at me in shock, before shrugging and kissing me again. This time we didn't come up for air for a good long while.  
  
Merlin, do I love the Malfoy charm. *wink wink*  
  
(But my dreams, they're aren't as empty, as my conscience seem to be I have hours only lonely my love is vengence that's never free.)  
  
***TBC*** 


	8. BBE 8, End

Behind Blue Eyes by Miaka Kennyuuki  
  
(Song Fic) Slash - Draco/Harry PG-13  
  
Summary: Draco contemplates how his life has been lived, and the one reason he wishes to change.  
  
//No one knows what it's like, to be the bad man, to be the sad man, Behind blue eyes.//  
  
"Behind Blue Eyes", Limp Bizkit  
  
Epilogue  
  
*Draco's POV*  
  
Ever heard of marital bliss? Well, neither have I. But I have to admit, dating Harry Potter is an experience to remember. Did you know he had a fan club? Yep, the Ordinance For the Love and Worshipment of the Great Harry Potter. How do I know such a horrifically long name, you say? Simple. I was jumped by them last week and they tattooed it all over my body. Let's just say, ouch.  
  
We had been openly seeing each other for about a month now, and I still couldn't stop smirking at the shocked glances we continued to receive. I remember it like it was yesterday. Our first victim was, of course, Madam Pomphrey. We were going at it like it was the end of the world and this was the last shag we'd ever have, when the old Nurse walked in on us. The thud when she hit the floor was audible two floors up.  
  
Our next victim was Professor Snape. It wasn't as you imagine, I'm sure. He didn't come into the Infirmary, see us, and faint. Oh, no. We got him the next morning, at breakfast. Harry was at his table, just minding his own business, Professor Snape was at the Head table, eating breakfast like a good little Professor, and I was just coming in to the Great Hall. I glanced toward Potter, intending only to wink surreptitiously at the raven- haired Gryffindor, but Potter looked at me, ran a hand through his messy hair and smiled in a way that I suddenly found exceptionally alluring.  
  
I was on him so fast I think I bowled over some Gryffindor's and a few Ravenclaws. My elbow knocked over the pitcher of pumpkin juice and his elbow turned the plate of eggs into the Weasel's lap. I pushed Potter down on the cleared space and straddled him, kissing him for all I was worth while running my hands through that deliciously messy hair. I heard several gasps, and thuds soon filled the Great Hall, but the sound that caught my attention was the 'stupify' cast by a strangled voice. I broke the kiss and looked up in time to see Severus fall to the floor in front of the staff table, a blissful look on his face. No one around him looked even remotely guilty, too busy staring at the spectacle of a Malfoy straddling a Potter. I came to one hilarious conclusion. Snape had stupified himself.  
  
For the next few minutes I was quite unable to react. I laughed my ass right off of Potter and to the floor, where I rolled in an undignified heap of mirth for long, drawn-out moments. Potter eventually brought me to my senses, but still, I will remember that moment forever.I eventually told Potter what was so funny, and now, a week later, I still spontaneously burst into soft chuckles.  
  
We entered the Transfiguration classroom hand in hand, both with identical smirks on our faces. I had taught Potter that little facial expression. It was sexy as hell and made the Professor's uncomfortable. We took out seats, unfortunately beside Granger and the Weasel, and settled to wait patiently for Professor McGonagall to come. After about a minute we got bored and started making out. The Weasel didn't appreciate this.  
  
"Stop raping him, Malfoy!" he whispered furiously, just as I stuck my tongue down Potter's throat. I heard Granger try to shush him, but she didn't have much luck. "Hey, I'm talking to you, you stupid poufter!" At that little sentence, Potter broke the kiss, ignoring my moan of complaint, and glared at the Weasel.  
  
"Watch how you talk to my boyfriend, Ron," Potter snapped. I grinned. You go, Potter! "You forget, what you call him you also call me."  
  
"But I don't understand, Harry!" he whined, his cheeks growing red with annoyance. "How can you love a Malfoy? They're--"  
  
"Loving, well-built, gorgeous--"  
  
"Intelligent, ambitious, cunning--"  
  
"Suave, debonair, dashing--" plugged in Potter, Granger and myself. We all paused, looked at each other, and laughed. That seemed to fuel Ron's rage even more.  
  
"Damn it, Harry!" he cried.  
  
"Damn what?" I asked curiously, smirking. The Weasel turned a horrid shade of purple and stood up, presumably to knock the smirk off my face. Ha, as if he ever could. Harry would throw him through a window. Ah, the joys of having an overprotective, extremely skilled wizard for a boyfriend. My smirk went up a notch at the thought.  
  
"Mr Weasley, sit down. Class is in session," said a stern voice. We looked up to see Professor McGonagall watching us. "Alright, class, turn to page 492 of your text books...."  
  
As the professor started the lesson, I turned to Potter and grinned. Potter smiled back, in that way that made me want to ravish him right where he was. Well, I was a Malfoy. Location never stopped me before....  
  
"Mr Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall cried, scandalized. Her wrinkled face turned a bright, angry red. "Not in my classroom!" I released Potter's lips and grinned at the professor. When her face reddened more, I laughed. Potter joined me.  
  
"I love you, Harry," I whispered, when McGonagall went back to her lesson.  
  
"I love you too, Draco," Potter answered. As the moment called for it, I laid a kiss to rival many French kisses on Potter. As he began to respond, another shriek filled the classroom.  
  
"Mr Malfoy!"  
  
My, but it's good to be me.  
  
***END***  
  
This is the end of Behind Blue Eyes. I hope you all liked it. I have a sequel idea going, so if you would like one, just tell me. Generally, it will be in Harry's POV, and focus on his relationship with Draco and his fight against Voldemort. If that goes good, who knows.  
  
Any additional comments or whatnot, check my profile for my email. I'd like to thank all of you for following through with this, and I hope you do the same for the sequel.  
  
See you again, luvs!  
  
Miaka ^_^  
  
Draco: I'll be seeing you blighters again, that's for sure.  
  
Harry: Draco, stop being so confrontational. *waves* Bye!  
  
***  
  
For anyone who wants to remember, here are the Malfoy family codes from this story for your referencing pleasure. Please remember that these are completely fictional, thought up by me and influenced by every author on this site. Thank you.  
  
MALFOY FAMILY CODES  
  
1. A Malfoy meets every situation with grace and finesse.  
  
2. A Malfoy never stumbles.  
  
3. A Malfoy is never used.  
  
4. A Malfoy never backs down.  
  
5. A Malfoy is never defeated.  
  
6. A Malfoy is the epitome of intelligence and wit.  
  
7. A Malfoy is always polite and well-mannered (unless under extreme duress).  
  
8. A Malfoy always graduates from school (unless under extreme circumstances, ie; poverty)  
  
9. A Malfoy never fails.  
  
10. A Malfoy shows no pain, ever.  
  
11. A Malfoy is never publicly humiliated.  
  
12. A Malfoy let's no wrong done to him/her go unrighted. (ie; seek revenge)  
  
13. A Malfoy is never propositioned, they do the propositioning.  
  
14. A Malfoy always carries themself with dignity and pride.  
  
15. A Malfoy is always on top, despite who you have to step on to get there.  
  
There are other Malfoy rules, but I'll save them for another time, okay? ^_^ Bye!  
  
(This story was beta-d by Saotoshi, at a freakin' un-Godly hour, so you all better appreciacte it ~Sao) 


End file.
